


Suburban Dad Kink

by youbuggme



Category: DC's Legends of Tomorrow (TV), The Flash (TV 2014)
Genre: Established Relationship, Fanny Pack, Fluff and Humor, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-01-14
Updated: 2017-01-14
Packaged: 2018-09-17 11:11:35
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,196
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/9320927
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/youbuggme/pseuds/youbuggme
Summary: Len couldn't help but stare at his partner from across the warehouse. That wasn't necessarily unusual. Len often found himself staring at his partner for many reasons ranging from astonishment to mirth to understand to desire. Occasionally, fondness and confusion would slip through the cracks of Len's stares, but horror had never been one of those stares...not until now.Or where Mick unironically wears a fanny pack.





	

Len couldn't help but stare at his partner from across the warehouse. That wasn't necessarily unusual. Len often found himself staring at his partner for many reasons ranging from astonishment to mirth to understand to desire. Occasionally, fondness and confusion would slip through the cracks of Len's stares, but horror had never been one of those stares...not until now.

Mick hadn't noticed yet and Len was still trying to bring his emotionless mask into place. There are many things Mick Rory has done and will do again that would horrify the normal civilian. Mick is a criminal, an arsonist to boot, and had killed quite a few people. Even if you didn't know that about Mick, looking at him would strike the fear in those who were pure of heart and innocent. Even some who weren't still were scared and horrified by Mick's massive expanse burns and gnarled skin; by his tightand hard muscles; by his crazed eyes and manic grin, which Len knew was an act…most of the time.

But none of those were the reason for Len's horror because Len found comfort in all that was Mick. He reveled in the same chaos Mick loved to create; he enjoyed the challenge of Mick's wild pyromania, helping his partner reel it in and control it; he personally _very much_ enjoyed the scars on Mick's body, how they felt under his fingertips and knowing that Mick didn't blame him for leaving him in the flames those years ago, knowing that they had created a semblance of understanding and trust. Len was thrilled by his partner, matching his own extremes and complimenting them even though the two were opposites. Len loved everything about Mick and who he was, thirty plus years of partnership smoothing out the jarring differences into fond quirks.

But thirty plus years of partnership did nothing to prepare Len for whatever the fuck that was.

"Where did you get that?" Len asked, eyes locked on the thing in question, his tone edging toward dismay as it broke down his usual drawl. He couldn’t help it. It was like seeing a unicorn in the middle of an urban street: you wouldn’t believe it was real and your mind would strain to understand what it was.

Mick raised a singed eyebrow and glanced down to where Len's eyes were. He shrugged, hint of a smile curving on his lips. "I found it."

Len couldn't help the movement of both eyebrows as they rose in questioning. "From who? A suburban dad of vacation to Disney World?"

Who else would wear a fucking _fanny pack_? Len certainly didn't think his partner would be to that answer.

Again, Mick shrugged carelessly as he threw on his flame-retardant jacket and adjusted his suspenders. "I never checked his ID to see where he lived, Snart," Mick retorted. "Just took the money and threw the rest out."

"Except for the fanny pack," Len hissed. The word felt off and wrong on his tongue. He’s not sure he’s ever even said it before. It wasn’t a word that came up in his normal, daily conversations. "You aren't seriously wearing that thing, are you?"

"Why?" Mick frowned, facing his partner fully so Len could get the full imagine of Mick, heat gun by his side and goggles around his neck...and the black leather fanny pack resting right below his soft tum. It wasn’t that it looked bad because it didn’t. It framed Mick well, looking more like a utility belt than a tourist’s souvenir holder. But Len couldn’t get over the fact of what it was to appreciate the aesthetic quality it brought out of his partner. "What? Are you the only one allowed in ridiculous outfits?"

"So you admit it's ridiculous," Len doubled checked. He wanted to make sure his partner knew how weird it looked. Mick Rory was an odd one, but Len needed to make sure his partner, the person he relied on, hadn’t completely lost it.

"Not as ridiculous as you and the damn parka in the middle of July."

Well, Mick did have a point.

“Whatever, let’s just get out of here. We got a schedule to keep.”

* * *

The alarms rang overhead and Len cursed softly. Around the corner, the doors burst open as guards rushed in, Tasers out and buzzing. Len had mapped the entire building out and knew the scheduled of the employees’ front to back. He didn't take into account an accountant and a too-young intern staying late to fuck in one of the offices, but no matter, Len dealt with them, sealing the room shut with ice and cutting the electricity. But that didn't stop cell phones from alerting security and the police five minutes earlier than Len's original plan.

"Got a backup plan, Boss," Mick muttered low. His presence against Len’s side was warm, both comforting and calming. The security guards knew there were intruders, they just didn't know how many and who.

Len was thinking, his mind spinning through plans and maps, trying to find the quickest route that would still ensure their ill-gained keep- a flash drive holding important information about a transfer of expensive jewels.

"There is a back door at the end of the hall," Len thought aloud, letting Mick in on his thought process in case his partner could come up with something. "It's locked and needs an upper-level security key card which we don't have since we didn't need it-"

"Like these?" Mick cut Len off. Len whipped his head to look at his partner, eyes dropping to where Mick was unzipping the damn fanny pack to reveal wads of cash, lighters, and ID cards, all shoved together in a jumbled mess.

Len looked up at Mick in astonishment. "Where did you get those?"

"While I prepped the offices, I searched the desks as you got the information from the main computer," Mick growled, tugging at Len's sleeve. "Come on, let's get out of here. I’m going to light this place up."

Len watched as Mick snuck ahead, searching the fanny pack- the godforsaken fanny pack that just saved their skins -for the correct ID. He wasted no time in following behind, slipping the flash drive with the information in his parka's inner pockets. He even let their departure stall a minute longer to let Mick watch the flames, Len still trying to reel his thoughts about the fanny pack.

* * *

"They are not the same thing," Len snapped at his sister.

She smiled into her beer glass, taking a quick sip, "Sure thing, Lenny."

"They aren't," Len hissed quietly, eyes drifting to his partner across Saints and Sinners, talking in a low voice to the bartender, fanny pack proudly hanging on his hips.

"They both look dumb as fuck," Lisa smirked evilly.

"Mine is functional." Len rubbed the sleeves of his parka subconsciously. It was true, besides the aesthetic quality, the coat protected him from the residual spray of the cold gun and its many pockets made it extremely useful when pickpocketing. Len had been over this a hundred times before.

"No one wears a fanny pack _just_ because they think it looks good," Lisa challenged. "He told me it has a special pocket for his _special_ lighter." Lisa’s nose wrinkled as she grinned. “The one from _juvie._ ”

That got a pointed look and Len decided not to touch on it. He had heard Mick rave about it when he was polishing the leather fanny pack and Len had showed his appreciation of Mick still having the lighter after thirty years in his own way that his sister did not need to know about.

"Not the same thing."

"I think you're just jealous it actually looks good on Mick."

Len was horrified. "It does not. He looks like an idiot."

"I say the same thing about the parka," Lisa shot back, "and didn't you tell me _it_ was a hit with the ladies and Mick."

"The parka is cool,” Len grinned at his sister’s groan. “It doesn’t take much to make Mick hot anyway,” Len muttered with a cocky smirk.

"What did you call it?" Lisa leaned back in the booth, eyes dancing with delight. "Mick’s parka kink?"

"I regret sharing anything with you," Len growled with no heat, glancing over to see where the hell Mick was with their drinks. Len found him now hovering by the pool table talking to a few usuals. A few glances were made toward the fanny pack but no one seemed as bothered by it as Len.

"I think you have a suburban dad kink and you just realized it."

Len snapped his head so quickly he almost got whiplash. _"What?"_ Len snarled as Lisa laughed.

“You heard me,” Lisa challenged, not breaking eye contact. “I think the fanny pack makes _you_ hot.” Len barked out a sarcastic laugh but Lisa didn’t look convinced. “What? You don’t think Mick looks good with it?”

Len turned to glance back at his partner who was finally picking up their drinks and coming back to their back booth. “I don’t think it is the fanny pack that makes Mick look good.”

Lisa still didn’t look convinced as Mick slid in next to Len, beers set in front of the three of them and arm coming to rest on the back of the booth behind Len. Len pointedly ignored the shiny leather of the fanny pack that was resting on his partner’s lap.

* * *

Lisa had left three hours ago but Mick and Len stayed, drinking to their recent success. Len didn’t drink often, didn’t have the taste for alcohol like most within his field, but he’d humor Mick and drink with him on occasion. He trusted Mick to watch out for him, drunk or not, and make sure Len didn’t do something he regretted.

At some point, Mick’s arm had slid from the back of the booth and onto Len’s shoulders and the two talked about dream heists in foreign countries. Len had tried to tease Mick under the table but found the fanny pack an awkward hurdle. If Mick noticed, he didn’t say anything about Len’s attempt but Len was still soured by the fanny pack’s presence.

Eventually, they stumbled out of Saints and Sinners, leaning against each other and grinning like fools. Mick’s arm was still secured around Len’s shoulders, holding him upright and Len had wound his arm around Mick’s waist, thumb hooked on his belt loop. It only agitated him slightly that Len’s thumb was brushing against the fabric of the fanny pack belt. It was easy enough to forget when Mick’s fingers slipped beneath the collar of his shirt, seeking out bare skin to stroke.

Mick had been whispering all night, whispering promises of what he’d do the Len as soon as they were alone. How he’d strip Len down, run his hands over Len’s body, shove Len down into the sheets. It went on, growing more graphic the more Mick drunk until Len threw down a wad of cash and dragged Mick out. Len was swaying a bit, certainly not as drunk as Mick but not sober and not close enough to pass for it.

Mick was still whispering, the words slurred and rough as he growled them, Mick’s lips brushing against Len’s temple. By the time they had reached the warehouse they were holding up in, Len had grown too hot for the parka and had it unzipped, it sliding down his shoulders. It made finding the key difficult, picking at the hanging sides of the parka to search in one of the many pockets. Mick’s clumsy fingers were quicker, unzipping the fanny pack and producing a key, grinning wickedly.

Just to be clear, Lisa was fucking wrong. Len would hold onto that claim till his end of days. Len did _not_ have a suburban dad kink. There was nothing about Mick that screamed suburban dad, other than the leather fanny pack. Len didn’t find receding hairlines ( _“Mick is bald.” “No, he shaves and there is a difference.”_ ), beer guts ( _“Len. Come on.” “It’s a soft tum, he’s still got plenty of muscle, trust me on that.”_ ), mid-life crises ( _“Super-villain” “Becoming a super-villain in your forties is not a mid-life crisis, Lisa.”_ ), or fathers ( _“What’s that kid’s name that your two adopted? Jax?” “We just looked out for him, he ain’t our kid.” “Sure, Lenny.”_ ) attractive. He had been attracted to Mick and had been fucking him regularly long before that fanny pack made its way to Mick’s hips…but Len was certainly not complaining that they did accentuate a certain part of Mick’s anatomy and he was definitely not complaining when Mick pulled out a condom from the depths of the leather pouch.

“Coming prepared?” Len teased, pulling Mick inside the warehouse and toward the mattress that had shoved in the back corner. “I don’t mind that one bit.”

Mick only responded with strong warm hands on Len’s hips and a hot mouth against Len’s neck, fanny pack pressed not uncomfortably against Len’s stomach.

It wasn’t a kink, but Len wasn’t bothered by its continual presence against his abdomen the rest of the night.

**Author's Note:**

> I'm not sure how to even justify this but hopefully you enjoyed. 
> 
> Thanks. :)


End file.
